One Day At A Time
by Patricia Emy
Summary: The events of "William" through the eyes of Monica Reyes.


Author: Patricia Emy  
Category: Vignette/Angst, Post-Episode, Reyes POV  
Rating: G  
Feedback: patricia_emy@yahoo.com  
Spoilers: William, Nothing Important Happened Today I, DeadAlive, Christmas   
Carol/Emily, Redux II, One Breath  
Disclaimer: Some of the dialogues from "William" were reproduced without   
permission. Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Monica Reyes and John Doggett belong to   
Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox. No infringement of any   
copyright laws is intended.  
  
Summary: The events of "William" through the eyes of Monica Reyes.   
  
Author's Note: English is not my first language so there may be some mistakes.   
Please let me know if you find any.  
  
  
  
ONE DAY AT A TIME  
  
  
  
  
Dana Scully is a survivor.  
  
Someone who came back from a coma after all the doctors had said otherwise.  
  
Someone who had been close to death and, against all odds, returned.  
  
Someone who had lost a child that wasn't supposed to be.  
  
She survived.  
  
For him.  
  
And then, he was gone.  
  
She survived, once more.  
  
For her son.  
  
Another child that wasn't supposed to be.  
  
He returned, defying any explanation, any logic. But nothing else mattered.   
For a brief moment, she had a glimpse of what happiness is. A normal life,  
for what one considered normal under the circumstances.  
  
And, when he was gone once again, she had to go on. For them both and for  
their son.  
  
In a way, they had become her strength, her faith.  
  
In such a short notice, she had lost so much and had been through more ordeals   
than anyone could ever take. And on this morning, when I saw her kissing her  
son goodbye, I could understand this same feeling that seemed to take over my   
soul.  
  
Emptiness  
  
As I looked at her I saw someone devoid of any hope.  
  
  
  
  
  
I was standing before the window, my thoughts lost in that rainy night. The  
two women had left hours ago, taking with them one of the few joys of a life   
devastated by pain and loss.  
  
Loss of loved ones, friends.  
  
Loss of the only person that really mattered.  
  
That bothered me. I knew why, but didn't want to face the truth. As I saw her,   
in her silent grief, I wondered if, many years ago, a young mother had not  
been through the same torment when she gave away her child.  
  
I tried to imagine if, years from now, he'd have the same life I had. A family.   
A job. Friends. Someone who really mattered. If someday he'd ask about his real   
parents.  
  
I can't blame her. I don't know what her reasons were. I don't even know her   
name. I've never wanted to know. I've always believed that certain wounds  
should not be reopened. Or, maybe, I was just afraid.   
  
John knows that better than me. I wish he were here. He'd be for sure, if this   
case had not opened some wounds of his own. I know that somehow he blamed   
himself for being unable to protect William, to do for him what he believed he   
wasn't able to do for his own son.  
  
He couldn't have known. None of us could have.  
  
I still can't believe it. No, the truth is I don't want to believe. My thoughts   
were far away, recalling the events of the earlier week.  
  
  
  
  
"I know it's impossible to stop thinking about what he said about William...  
but it's all lies, Dana and you were the one who proved it."  
  
She faced me. "And how should I prove it now? By insisting that I can protect   
him... only to learn too late that I can't?"  
  
"You say it as if you have a choice", I replied, confusion written all over my   
face.  
  
"He didn't have a choice to come into this life. I don't have a choice about   
what he is or was... but I do have a choice about the life my son will have...",   
she turned her back to me, with her voice breaking, her eyes tearing up, "And   
shouldn't I choose that he never have to be afraid of anyone or anything? And   
can I ever really even promise him that?"  
  
"But who can?"  
  
  
  
  
She made the decision that same night.  
  
I didn't know what to say. Something inside of me wanted to scream, tell her  
not to do it, but at the same time I knew that nothing I said would make her   
change her mind. Perhaps because I could only imagine all the things she'd  
been through until that moment. I know she'd never make such a decision if she   
were in a different situation, but that didn't make things easier.  
  
She needed to be sure. The certainty to which she'd cling to as to maintain  
her own sanity.  
  
And she needed friends.  
  
And friends do not question at times like this.  
  
  
  
  
The silence was broken by her muffled cry.  
  
I hugged her tight as the first sobs ran through her body. At some moment,  
tears started running down my face.  
  
That night we cried together one more time.   
  
For William.   
  
For her.   
  
For Mulder.   
  
For all of us.  
  
Finally she fell asleep, succumbing to the exaustion. The semidarkened bedroom   
was bathed by the faint light of the streetlamps coming through the window. I   
closed the door slowly and came back to the living room. Lying on the couch, I   
let sleep rescue me.  
  
  
  
The next morning I found her at the nursery, staring at the empty bassinet.  
  
"Dana, are you okay?"  
  
The answer to my question was a little smile that seemed to carry a glimpse of   
something she believed she no longer had inside.  
  
Hope.  
  
Just like Dana Scully, we're all survivors.  
  
One day at a time.  
  
But now she knows she's not alone.  
  
  
  
End  
  
  
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